The Unravelled Past
by Blue-eyesThropp
Summary: Their future unwound, their past unravelled, their time brief but shared. Rated K for now, but we'll see how it continues... rating could go up.


**Author's Note: So, this has fanfic been haunting me forever: I wrote this chapter ages ago, and then kind of forgot what I wanted to write about, but every now and again I would open it, write a few sentences, delete them, and not look at it for a month. But recently, I seem to have contracted the Layton bug again, and the creative juices have been finally flowing again. I only have the first two chapters yet, though, so uploading could be slow. **  
**I'm not quite sure where this fanfiction is going to go yet, but if it is well received I'll definitely continue and think of something as I plod along (my process is so wonderfully organized!) **  
**I hope you enjoy this story! And please, if you did or didn't, review and let me know what you and tips will be greatly appreciated! **  
**Love, **  
**Blue-eyes Thropp**

**Summary: Their future unwound, their past unravelled, their time brief but shared. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas. All rights go to the creators of Professor Layton (bless those wondeful people!) **

Chapter 1: A Memory

Setting his teacup back into its saucer, Hershel chuckled to himself. Countless letters and telegrams from his former, blue-clad apprentice already belonged to the organized disarray on his desk, and he added this one very ceremoniously to the pile. Before him sat a typewriter, the majestic centerpiece of the cluttered table, a half finished protocol of his latest investigations peeking impatiently out from the top. A row of diplomas, awards, news clippings- oh, all sorts of reminders of investigations and accomplishments passed- lined the wall above him (he was not a self-centered man and would hate for one to render him such, but he did like to remind himself, say, during a dry spell, that he was an accomplished man- gentleman). Several clocks and watches were in his possession, but his favourite one, an ornate pocket watch, too valuable to be removed from the safety of his house, lay beside his typewriter and never would tell you the time even a second off, as though it knew it was too esteemed, as far as clocks go, to ever dare do such a thing of impertinence.

One more piece had been on this desk for the longest of time, and never had Hershel even so much thought of moving it to a different place. It was a faded photograph of him, donning his old, vibrant orange flat cap, next to a lady; a lady who was, to Hershel, more radiant than any star in the heavens. Her light brown hair, tinged with copper, flattered her face, falling in waves around her well built shoulders, which highly contrasted her slight form. Claire Folley, former flame of Hershel Layton's. It was her who Hershel had grieved for these past years.

Claire had been lost in a tragic explosion, some ten years back. A scientific experiment, performed by Dimitri Allen and Bill Hawks, to whom she acted as lab partner, though she was by all means a capable scientist herself. It had been a time machine, well, an attempted time machine. Claire had been the first human to attempt time travel, though not by free will, but as a scientist fulfilling a duty. Suffice to say the machine malfunctioned, and in the subsequent explosion, Claire had been lost forever. Hershel hadn't even seen her after the accident. He had never said farewell to his beloved Claire.

So the picture sat there, where she had put it, never moving. Hershel took a further sip of tea and inhaled deeply. No, he did not wish to think of Claire right now. Absent mindedly, his left hand moved to his head on which his old top hat was jauntily placed there. It, too, never moved from his rightful position. Hershel tipped the brim slightly forwards onto his forehead, leaned back and closed his eyes. Trying to banish the thought of Claire from his mind had had the counteractive effect, as now the thought was more prominent and painful than ever. So, instead, he took the opposite approach…


End file.
